


Remedy

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Sickfic, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 01:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3156428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam joins and comforts Frodo while they wait at Elrond’s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remedy

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Sam’s own sheets are the softest he’s ever felt in his life, even if the bed is a little high off the ground for his liking, and the stone is cold beneath his feet. The room is still beautiful, side-less on one end, open to the pale glow of the stars that slips around all the intricate columns. Rivendell is a wondrous place, straight out of the storybooks. Even if the hobbits back home would’ve shunned such distance and imagination, Sam can’t think of any one who wouldn’t revel in awe at the gates. Elrond is a kind, generous host, and Sam, on any normal night, would be perfectly content to snuggle into his bed and maybe never get up again. 

But tonight, Frodo is no better than the night before, and Sam slips out of his room, as if drawn by his master’s ragged breathing. He slinks into Frodo’s chambers with ease; Rivendell has no need of guards. Frodo, though often attended by elves trying to heal his wound, is now alone in his bed, his sallow, sickly skin almost swallowed up by the thick white covers. The whole place seems to shimmer like jewels. Sam feels vaguely like a thief in the night, weaving through it, but he can’t leave Frodo’s side when Frodo _needs him_.

Frodo’s blue eyes part as Sam approaches. They’re as pretty as they always are, even through the haze of sleep and sickness. Frodo’s always _beautiful_ , no matter his state, and Sam whispers, “Mr. Frodo?”

Frodo mumbles weakly, “Sam?” His voice is scratchy, and for a moment, Sam thinks he should go fetch water, but then Frodo’s arm climbs out of the sheets, stretching towards him, and he couldn’t move if he wanted. Frodo’s dark curls have slicked across his forehead with his sweat, his lips pink and parted. His arm isn’t long enough to reach the edge of the bed, and it falls in that wake. Sam reaches out for it to meet Frodo’s hand halfway, clasping it in his. 

“I’ve come to keep an eye on you.” He wants to lift Frodo’s hand and kiss it like some knight out of fairy tales but knows better. Instead, he just keeps holding it. Frodo smiles blearily, crooked and lovely. 

He sighs, “’Knew you would.” It’s Sam’s turn to grin; at least his loyalty hasn’t gone unnoticed. Then Frodo starts trying to push at the blankets, bunching them back, and Sam gets the idea. It’s the same as every time they were young, and Sam’s old Gaffer would come tell him about little Frodo being sick, and Sam would come back with hot soup. Bilbo always let them lie together, because if one was going to be ill, the other soon would be anyway, and they took comfort in that closeness. He seizes the invitation. 

He climbs up onto the mattress, shooing Frodo’s arms away, and buries under the sheets himself. His nightclothes match with them, Frodo’s too, though Frodo’s are tugged down and cut open where the bandages are, clean ones, freshly wrapped around him. Sam tries not to look at it, but it’s hard.

He pulls the blankets up to their shoulders, and he says as much for himself as Frodo, “You’ll feel better. I know you will.” Frodo lights in another smile, like he believes and trusts Sam implicitly. Then his lashes start to flutter down again, and Sam thinks he might be ready to sleep.

He mumbles, delicate and frighteningly fragile, “Kiss me goodnight?” Sam can hear all the strain in his voice. All the darkness and pain leaking below his skin. 

Sam searches under the blankets and finds Frodo’s waist. He wraps one arm carefully around it and pulls himself as close as he can, close enough that one of his legs has to slip between Frodo’s, and Frodo makes a strangled moaning noise and squirms against him. Sam murmurs, “Shhh, shh. I’m here, Mr. Frodo. And I’m always going to be.” Frodo tilts his head up just a little bit off the pillows, chin thrust forward. 

Sam closes the distance, pressing his lips only lightly against Frodo’s, just enough to be felt, not enough to satiate his hunger. Frodo will be healed soon, though, and he has to believe that. Then they can be young, adventurous hobbits again, instead of damaged fools so very far out of their league. Frodo tries to press tighter into him but doesn’t have the strength to give it any real pressure, and Sam pulls away. It’s easier physically than it is emotionally. He _wants_ to kiss Frodo properly, to roll around in these luxurious sheets and enjoy their stay in these marvelous beds. But he wants Frodo to be alright, first and foremost. 

He settles back on his half of the pillow and reaches to brush some of Frodo’s deep brown hair out of his eyes. Frodo dazedly whispers, “Knew you’d come.”

Then he ducks his head and nuzzles into Sam’s shoulder. His arms wrap almost desperately around Sam’s body, weak and trembling, and he arches, trying to curl up into a little ball. Sam has to wonder where the ring is—is it making this worse? It isn’t fair that Frodo, sweet Frodo, who’s never done a mean thing to anyone, should have to bear this burden. 

But in another way, he understands why the task must be given to someone like Frodo, pure and unable to be corrupted. Sam kisses his forehead and softly strokes through his hair, savouring his warmth, while Frodo’s squirming slowly dies back out. 

Frodo’s little noises lapse back into quiet, even puffs. He’s safe asleep. At least it’s hard to have bad dreams in Rivendell. 

Sam holds Frodo until he falls asleep himself, willing his Frodo to heal.


End file.
